Maze of Mendacity
by CobraCommander
Summary: Underneath the surface of Warrant VI, a small mining colony unlocks the horrible truths of the rulers that control them. CHAPTER FOUR: PROTECT THE POWER now up! Please Read and Review.
1. Background of Warrant

Maze of Mendacity

By Cobra Commander

_Authors' Note: All characters are herein fictional and are not meant to depict any real known persons._

Chapter One: Background of Warrant

When I was born, it was in the Warrant VI Hospital. I thought that there had always been more than one, but that's what it was called. Of course, I had never been to the surface, so I couldn't exactly say what was up there. The guards that were on duty, however, told me that it was a very harsh place; that the environment was a wasteland. They said that the severe storms had killed thousands of colonists when they had arrived, and that it was much safer under the ground.

Sure, the whole place was small, but it didn't bother me too much. When I think about it, though, I can never remember anyone having a problem with it. You'd think that when a few thousand people were living in this confined labyrinth it'd drive someone crazy. But no, there was not one claustrophobic in the entire colony.

We were proud of our heritage. The settlers who had dug the caves were from the early 2300's. They came in broken-down vessels from Earth to escape the wrath of the Union. Though it was not a complete escape, the settlers were still happy. They were living under guidance from the Confederacy – and the Confederacy was this great empire who stood for justice and truth – and that's who helped them build the network.

The mining sites weren't dangerous at all; there were no Protoss anywhere on Warrant VI. And even if you felt a little unsafe, the Epsilon Squadron soldiers were there to protect you. They were from the Confederacy, so we treated them with the greatest respect.

My father had told me that some things were a bit skewed; he said that the Confederacy had done some bad things, and that one of their head generals (General Duke, if I remember correctly) was a terrible man. Now, I had always known my father to be a very wise and reasonable person, but when he told me this, I could only laugh. I thought he was just pulling my leg, but he sneered at me and turned his back. He was older then; about seventy or so. But he told me again while he was dying in the hospital. I didn't laugh that time, I didn't laugh at all. I told him that I believed him; that I would confront the Confederacy for their crimes and try to get a few people in jail, or at least expose the truth.

That never happened. He died that night and I just sat there holding his hand, realizing that the last words I had told him were a lie. He smiled at me before his eyes closed, and at first I thought he was proud. But ever since then, I had this vibe that went through me, and it was his voice saying, "It's okay, Thad, you don't have to try to make me happy." He was a good man. I always feel like I let him down.

I remember a few months later when I went to visit my mother for our regular weekly lunch date. She was still upset, but she managed to keep a brave face on things. She was smiling and laughing, telling me all these stories about dad – the ones I had heard a thousand times – and pausing every now and then to take in the fact that he was finally gone. I asked her what dad was talking about when he said that the Confederacy had done bad things. Her laughing stopped, and she shut down, just staring at the food that had been put in front of her. I rarely ever saw her like this.

And I remember saying, "Mom, I just need to know. I've trusted the Confederates ever since I was born. You can at least tell me what dad meant, even if it _was _a lie." When I had finished that sentence, her head snapped up; her eyes meeting mine. She wasn't sad; no, she had a flaming rage in her eyes.

"You're father _never _lied," she said slowly. The coldness in her voice shocked me, and she got up right then and there and went home. I tried to call her and apologize, but she never answered. I would go to her house, but she'd lock the doors. Sometimes when I would come over she'd just stand by the window, looking at me and shaking her head.

I even sent Lauren over there a few times, but my mother turned her away, too. It was like she didn't want to see me ever again. But it wasn't good enough for me. I had never lost faith in my father; I just wanted to know the truth. She just kept shutting me out. I wouldn't let her, though. I wasn't about to let her die without talking to me again. I needed to tell her one thing: "I'm sorry."

But I never got that chance. Her neighbor, George, was mowing his lawn when he noticed the front door was open, and that a hand was reaching out from it. He ran over and found her lying on the ground. She had a heart attack.

The graveyard was far off from the small town and the mining sites. They had to, because people never thought of a funeral as a bright thing, so it was secluded from the bright overhead lights that were attached to the underside of the surface. They lowered her into the ground, and that's when I knew what the truth was.

My father was a liar.

Things are hard to swallow. Things that should have stayed the same are prone to change. But it didn't matter, what was done was done. Lauren had always told me that my father was probably right, that they _had _some criminal activity. But I knew it was a ploy to make me feel better, so I paid no attention. I never told her that, though, because I couldn't imagine refusing all the love she was giving me. I realized how much I had put her through, so I never thought to tell her to stop telling me things I wanted to hear.

Maybe I was brainwashed or just stupid. I heard somewhere that ignorance is bliss. Maybe I read it. Either way, some great Confederate leader had said that, and I was going to follow. I didn't want to imagine that the government body I trusted my life as well as my wife's was capable of hurting innocent people.

Our house was small, but so was everyone else's. For the most part, at least. It really depended on how many people lived in your house. Since it was just Lauren and I, we had the smallest type of home. That was okay, we liked it. It was a cute little house, and she decorated it perfectly. I kept the lawn in great shape, or at least I tried. Those beaming overhead lights sometimes fried the grass.

In back we had a tiny little garden and a view of the city. Sometimes I forget what it was called, because most everybody just called it "the city." But when they dimmed the lights overhead for people to rest, the city glowed magnificently. It was this sedative that made me forget about all the problems I had had recently.

I was a fortunate one, though, because I didn't have to work as a miner. I worked in the armory, creating better plates for protecting the troops. It was a titanium mill, and all I had to do was put the metal in the furnace, take it out, put it in the mold, and ship it to the next guy. A lot of people would have said it was tedious, but I could do it for hours without thinking about it.

Besides, it's not like I worked alone. I had my friends there with me; Lee and Steroc were there with me at the furnace, and Redman came by every hour to pick up what we had finished. And every other day Barkley came to check on the furnace. I worked an eight hour shift, and I'd go straight home every day. I usually beat my wife by an hour or so, for the corporation she worked at didn't close as early as the mill.

I was envious of her; every day she got to go into the city and be among the important business people. Sure, there weren't a whole lot of them, but it still fascinated me. She said that the city wasn't all that great and that I wasn't missing out on anything, but I thought that, too, was something I just "wanted to hear."

For the most part, people were miners. Even old George was a miner, and he had been since he graduated high school. And all those business people? They were brokers and traders of the minerals that were found at the sites. Maybe that's why I wasn't missing out on anything.

Even the other day I remember Steroc stopping his work, resting on the shovel that he was using to feed the furnace. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at me.

"There's got to be something up there," he said. At that moment I didn't know what he meant. We all knew that the second level of the mill was assembly. He snapped at us. "No, not that, you idiots. I mean on the surface. What's up there? I'd give just about anything to see."

"Why?" asked Lee. "It's just storms. Nothing but wind and rain."

"Have you ever seen rain, Lee?" he asked. I shut the mold and left it that way. I had never heard the wind, if it really did make a sound.

That drove me wild and fascinated me more than the city ever had. What was on the surface? Why were we being kept down here? Why couldn't we leave? And once I found that the answers would not be in that mill, I knew that my father had told me the truth.


	2. Masks

Chapter Two: Masks

I was heading out the door when the overhead lights started to brighten, signaling that it was dawn. The paper was late, as always, and I went to the sidewalk to look up and down the street to see if the newspaper hovercraft was coming. Nothing of that sort. However, the water men were coming, stopping and spraying each yard for a minute or so to give the grass the supply it needed. Of course, any homeowner could water their grass to their heart's content, but with the water men, it was easier. I was far too lazy to get up and go water the plants outside.

The mill was only a twenty minute walk from my house, so I let my wife take the hovercar into work each day. We only had one. We could afford two, but we didn't really need it, so we stuck with the vehicle we had.

I took the same path to work every day for ten years, knowing every house, every business, and every crack in the sidewalk. I passed the street where my mother's house was, and remembered that I needed to stop by after hours. With someone finally buying it, I was instructed by my mother's old realtor to take everything out. Even though she died hating me she still left me all the junk she had collected over the years. Hundreds of trinkets, broken plates, and unbelievable amounts of trash.

Perhaps _that _was her final revenge.

The mill was coming into a better view. There were two large smoke stacks on the western side of the building, and they went straight through the underside and emitted the fumes on the surface. It was one of the largest mills in the colony. The largest was, of course, the mineral processing mill.

I was never really sure who owned the mill. Some company that was bigger out in the universe that I didn't know. Big Sky Incorporated owned the mill, I think, but it was unclear.

I was at work a few minutes early, putting on my protective suit and strapping the goggles to my face. It was Friday, the last day before the weekend. I didn't have much planned. I knew I wanted to go to my mother's house and take out a few of my childhood belongings before the new family moved in. I had been trying to sell that house for ages, but there wasn't a single buyer. And now, finally, some guy who worked in the city who had a wife and two kids was going to take it. A little too cute, if you ask me. It was the cookie-cutter family. I had met the father; he was a nice enough guy, and so was his wife. It just seemed strange to me that suddenly they wanted to buy it, and at first glance, too. They had only walked through the house once when they told their realtor they wanted it.

I figured I'd do that and then go down to the graveyard and tell my mother and father that the house was being sold. I still did that every now and then. It doesn't comfort me, and it doesn't make me feel any better. It just seemed that I owed it to them.

As I was standing in my working area, strapping my gloves around my wrists, Steroc came in, rubbing his goggles with his shirt. He looked at me briefly and smiled, then clocked in and sighed as he stared at the furnace. I switched on the mold maker as the first bell rang, indicating that work was to start now, and anyone showing up was late. A few seconds after that, Lee scrambled in. He nearly tripped over himself as he jumped to the wall to clock in. He did so, and then tried to act as if nothing had happen.

I laughed as I started to feed the furnace, and Steroc helped me. Hour after hour went by as we shoveled and pressed the molds and talked about the old days. Days when we would come home from school and screw around for hours on end. We'd be running across lawns, messing up my neighbor's flowers… boy, old George really thought I was a brat when I was a kid.

And when we got to high school we started to think seriously about our future. I guess Steroc was the only one who didn't seem to care too much. He knew his job would be based around something mining, and he was right. He didn't try too hard, he didn't push himself to the max… he was lazy. So was I, don't let me fool you, but I wanted to be able to enlist in the army. Not so much to fight for the army I trusted, but to escape this surrounding.

But no matter how much I put into my studies, I never achieved anything. I finished Algebra II my senior year, and passed with a C-. That wasn't good enough for the Confederacy somehow. But I would look at the soldiers that they had enlisted; you know the ones who were guarding us? They were morons. I mean, they couldn't do tech math if their life depended on it. The only soldier I had seen that had a resemblance of brains was the CO around here, Captain Harris. He came by our school once a week to watch us during gym class. My guess is that he wanted to see who was in shape. But he also bugged our teacher for other stuff. He wanted grades and class rankings.

And as bad as mine sounded, I was still proud. Out of fifty-eight, I was twenty-first. Lee was thirty-second, and Steroc… well, we won't worry about Steroc's grades.

But in the end, only one of us was drafted. You'd think they'd want more soldiers to help the war effort, but Harris always assured us that the Confederacy was maintaining peace and keeping all the colonies in line. We'd always ask him when he came in, and we'd see him on holovision that night. He'd be on the screen giving a war report. I forgot where he said the report was from… Confederate High Command, I think.

Harris hand-picked the soldier who he thought would be perfect. It was Mason, the genius of the class. He completed Calculus and Differential Equations his sophomore year, and was eligible to graduate early. I thought that he would just be one of the patrol guards around town or something, but Mason was put into some special program for psychologically enhanced people… or something like that.

Mason was sent off to an academy at eighteen and we never heard from him again. He never wrote anything to his mother.

He was pretty quiet most of the time, but all in all, not a bad guy. Steroc teased him every now and then, but Lee and I always made sure he knocked it off. But Steroc always hit Mason hard when he entered the science fair. We had to do it every year, and every year Mason came up with something amazing.

It was junior year that Mason created an engine that could run on such a minimal amount of vespene gas that a full tank could last up to a year in a wraith, and half a year in a siege tank. And Steroc just made the same thing he had made the two years before; he made an electric chair for action figures.

"Egghead's got an engine, huh?" laughed Steroc. "Does it run on farts, too, Mason?"

I was standing behind my display of a miniature goliath model that was cell-operated. I couldn't help but laugh. Mason just sat there, hanging his head down as he was awarded first place.

His idea was perfect, but it was never put into use. Harris said that there was plenty of vespene gas throughout the universe, and that it wouldn't be needed until there was eternal peace in the galaxies.

But still, Mason was sent to the academy, and he brought the designs for the engine with him. A year or so after that Harris passed away, and this new guy, Killaghen, was put in charge. Harris was pretty young when he died; fifty-six if I remember correctly.

And Killaghen was still here, giving us war reports and always going to the schools, at least that's what my neighbor told me. His boy was a senior who would graduate this year, and the kid said Killaghen was always evaluating them. I wondered which kid would be sent to the academy this year, and I always wondered what happened to Mason.

"What do you guys think happened to him?" I finally asked them after we had a break in the reminiscing. "You think Mason is still out there somewhere?"

"How the hell should I know?" asked Steroc. "But if he is, I hope he comes back. I got a lot of questions for that guy. I want someone to come back and tell me what's really going on out there."

"You don't believe that the Confederacy is winning?" asked Lee.

"Oh, I don't care about who's winning," said Steroc. "I'll just bet that it's different from what we're told."

"Well, it doesn't really matter, Steroc," I replied. "There's a lot of things that we don't know about, and it's probably better that way. With what we know, we're happy. That's good enough for me. And if Mason ever came back, you'd have to apologize to him."

"What the hell for?"

"Oh, come off it, Steroc!" Lee laughed. "You gave that guy so many wedgies it's a wonder he didn't split in two!"

I chuckled as I pressed the mold down over and over again. They continued to argue about the bad things Steroc did to Mason. But soon enough the games were over, and Redman came by to visit us. He would always pick up what we had completed, but today he only had forms in his hands. I was a little worried at first, because I knew that management had seen us goofing around a lot.

Redman handed me the papers and smiled. As I began to read, I sighed. Not release forms.

"What've you got there, Thad?" asked Steroc.

"Not sure," I said, shaking my head. I looked up at Redman. "What's this for?"

"It's pretty simple," he began. "Management wants you three to go take the hovertruck over to the graveyard. Some asshole miner decided not to bring his shipment all the way to us, and that's where he dropped it. It's not a big load; you all should be able to do it in an hour or so. Just grab your shovels." He fished in his pocket and retrieved the keys to the hovertruck. "Here you go." He tossed them to Lee.

Redman looked at the little progress we had made so far and shook his head as he loaded it onto a cart.

"You know, I get yelled at when you guys turn out practically nothing. I don't know why they do it to me, but I'd appreciate it if you guys actually worked for a change."

"Ah, you're welcome, Redman. You're the only one we want to get in trouble," Steroc stated. "Otherwise it's just cruel."

Redman smiled and punch Steroc in the arm as he pushed the cart away. Lee grabbed two shovels, handed one to me, and jingled the keys in his hand. Steroc took the last shovel and we went to the truck, not eager at all the shovel the bullshit.

----

Lee pulled up to the graveyard and slammed on the brake. Steroc and I nearly slammed our heads into the dashboard as Lee grinned. We jumped out as the truck slowly lowered to the ground where it finally rested on the soil. It was dark here; the graveyard was a very grey place.

We almost immediately saw the pile of minerals which was probably about four feet high. It would take much more than an hour for us to put all these marbles in the truck, especially since it was us. We wasted time horribly.

The pile had been dropped on a hill that overlooked the entire graveyard, and Lee had parked the truck about thirty feet away behind a storage shed for the gravediggers.

"Hey, Lee; go back up the truck so that it's closer to us. I don't feel like walking back and forth," Steroc ordered. Lee saluted dumbly and paced away to the hovertruck.

I stuck the edge of the shovel in the ground and rested one foot on the top of the spade. I leaned against it, looking out into the dark graveyard. Steroc was doing the same, his hands on his hips. He turned around and looked for Lee. We hadn't even heard the hovertruck start, and I could hear Steroc cursing under his breath.

I was too busy gazing at my mother's grave which was so far away. Even with all the stones in that enclosure, I still knew which one she lay by. But my eyes began to wander, and I soon saw two Confederate soldiers walking out into the middle of the field. I perked up and watched as a third soldier entered the yard, walking backwards with his gun pointed at something I couldn't see.

Suddenly, soldiers of an unknown faction emerged from the same location the Confederate men came from. I didn't recognize their armor at all, and they were so far away that I could barely make them out.

The two soldiers that had first entered the field spun something onto the end of their rifles as the unknown marines dropped to their knees, hanging their heads down with their hands behind them. They pointed their rifles at the men as if they were going to shoot, but they sat still.

Without moving my horrified gaze, I swung my arm in an attempt to gain the focus of Steroc, who was still looking for Lee. I finally smacked him and got him to turn around.

"What the hell do you want, Thad?" he said angrily.

"Look!" I pointed to the center of the graveyard where the executions were about to take place. Steroc mumbled something, and I could tell he was confused.

Soon, another figure entered, dressed in Confederate officer's uniform. He took his time putting on some leather gloves before retrieving a pistol from his side. I dropped the shovel and froze in terror. Never before had I seen anything like this… and that man… that _officer_…

It was Killaghen.

He aimed the pistol at the first man's head, and I turned around and tripped at the sound of the fire. Steroc backed away and picked me up as another shot rang throughout the graveyard. I got up and looked back as he fired three more shots, finishing off the last of the soldiers.

We scurried away and went for where the truck had been parked, but we slid to a halt when we saw Lee was being taken prisoner by Confederate guards. Steroc dove behind the small shack, and I did the same. We'd have to figure out some way to save Lee, but at that moment I had too many thoughts running through my head.

There was fear, anger, confusion, everything spinning around me and slapping me side to side. I curled up and took one last fateful look as the Confederates took the bodies and threw them into caskets that already contained bodies. They lowered the caskets into the ground and began to shovel dirt over them again… and I could only think back to a few weeks ago when I came to my mother's grave:

The dirt around the stone was fresh and moist.


	3. The Escape

Chapter Three: The Escape

I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Lee was in trouble. I wasn't going to let those bastards kill him, too. I grabbed Steroc's shoulder and got up. He looked up at me, confused and scared. I crouched down and stared at him right in the eye.

"Remember when we were kids and we played with those fake swords? And we used to smack each other in the head with them?" I asked. Steroc cocked his head back as if I were insane. I sighed and ran off to where I had dropped my shovel. I covertly gripped it, and a few feet away was Steroc's. I took his, too, and ran back to the rear of the truck. I tossed him a shovel, and he flinched as he caught it. "Well, I'm thinking shovels will hurt a bit more than phony swords." I smiled. Steroc still looked confused.

"… don't you think we should help Lee before we reenact our childhood?" Steroc asked me. I guess I had temporarily forgotten that Steroc wasn't the smartest out of the three of us. I raised my shovel as if I were going to hit him.

"No," I sighed. "Just watch and then follow."

I tiptoed to the front of the hovertruck and saw Lee with his hands in the air. A Confederate soldier was holding him at gunpoint. I checked to see if there was anyone else around, but that soldier was the only one there. For some reason, the other guards had left. I moved in with my shovel, knowing that I'd have to see the marine's face before I could deal any damage; his helmet was covering the top of his head.

Lee noticed me, and like an idiot, turned his head. I wasn't close enough yet. I switched my grip on the shovel, holding it like a spear. The marine started to turn my way, and when he saw me, backed up and got ready to fire. Lee was still holding his hands up.

I thrust the shovel forward, launching it towards the marine. Unfortunately, it hit him in the gut and bounced off his armor. It caused him to stumble, and he fell on his back as the rifle blast flew into the air. I jumped to get the shovel back, but his metal-coated leg stuck out and struck me in the side, causing me to flip over.

As I levitated over the shovel for a brief moment, I swung out my hand to grab it, but missed. I landed with a big _thud! _My arms and legs flailed, trying to scramble up and get my only weapon. The marine was starting to get up; I guess all that armor can be a bitch as well as a blessing.

But I knew I wouldn't reach my goal in time. I looked to my left; Lee still stood, but at least his hands were down. He wasn't looking at me this time, nor was he at the marine. I swung my head back around and watched Steroc plunge the tip of his shovel into the face of the soldier. I stopped dead in my tracks as the limbs of the marine ceased.

Steroc looked at me. "Like that?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said as I wiped my forehead. "Like that."

Lee looked behind him and then back to us. I nodded and signaled for Steroc to follow me. We all knew this wasn't the end. More soldiers would be on their way. The rifle blast was too loud to not be noticed. And even though they might think it was the soldier shooting one of us, it still would cause alarm.

We crept back to where Steroc and I had first witnessed the executions as well as the ill burials. There was no one in the graveyard. Not a soul. Steroc didn't waste time; he started down the hill, trying to keep his balance. Before I could even say anything, I heard the marines in the background.

They had found the body with the shovel in his face.

I grabbed Lee's hand and we tumbled down the hill, not trying to be fancy like Steroc. We came to a halt at the bottom, nearly slamming into a rather large headstone. Steroc joined us seconds later, and we all ran across the cement-congested field. I darted in and out of small pillars sticking out of the ground.

We came closer and closer to my mother's grave. And though I tried to keep the idea that the tears in my eyes were formed from the wind whipping my face, I knew that I was dreading the truth; that the sick, sick men had put a body with my mother. I was only feet away from it. I still remembered the dirt around that grave being moist. I nearly became sick.

I came to a stop and dropped to my hands and knees, ripping at the soil with my bare fingers. Steroc and Lee noticed that I had stopped running with them. They instantaneously turned around and grabbed me at both of my arms.

All I could do was resist. I had to. I needed to know who was lying with my mother. I needed to know if I had actually seen the Confederates throwing bodies into graves.

"There's no time, Thad! Come on! We have to go!" Lee pleaded. But I sniffed and struggled and nearly screamed.

"There they are!" a voice screamed in the distance. I looked up at the top of the hill. Killaghen was there, surrounded by several soldiers. Some were already on their way down. A few bullets whirred past us, and I quickly changed priorities.

As we ran further and further into the graveyard, I couldn't help but think of what I had done to my parents. Acted as if they were idiots. And when they had died, I showed almost no remorse. What was wrong with me? I felt like a victim of the system that surrounded me.

Perhaps we all were.

I whipped my head around one last time and saw as Killaghen approached my mother's grave. When I turned back around, I saw a Confederate vehicle on the other side of an approaching gate. We all had the same idea.

Steroc went straight for the driver's seat, and Lee jumped into the passenger's side. I slid open a side door and barreled in as a few gunshots smacked the side of the vehicle. Steroc hit the ignition button, and within seconds the well-sized craft was floating above the air and speeding off to wherever it took us. I took a few deep breaths as I slid the door closed. I threw my neck back, resting my head against the interior wall. Lee turned around to face me.

"You think they're tracking this thing?" he asked worriedly. "The Confederacy doesn't take a whole lot of chances, you know." I stared at him with disbelief.

"Didn't you see what they were doing back there? I'd say that's one big fucking risk, Lee." He stared at me, confused. Sure, he had been taken hostage, but he hadn't witnessed the executions.

"Damn it, man! They were killing people!" Steroc shouted. "They were blasting their heads off right in the middle of the cemetery!"

Lee slowly turned back around and shrunk into his seat. I got up on my knees and squeezed his shoulder. He took my hand and held it for a while. I put my other hand on Steroc's shoulder. We were in trouble. I doubted that the vehicle we were in had a tracker, but sure as hell the Confederates would be looking for it.

I crawled to the back and gazed out the window. There was no one here. We were driving deep into the mines, and by now, most of the workers had gone. Steroc slowed to a stop and turned the craft off. We sat for a few minutes in silence.

"What do we do now?" asked Steroc. Now, he was my best friend and all, but it was questions like those that made me want to punch him in the face.

"How the hell should I know?" I asked him. I was on the edge as much as he and Lee were. That wasn't the perfect moment to ask me to come up with a brilliant plan.

"You're the smart one, Thad," Steroc replied. Once again, wanted to punch him in the face.

"Sorry, Steroc, but I didn't bring my list of escape plans in case we killed a marine and stole a Confederate hovertruck." He rolled his eyes and beat his fist against the steering wheel.

But at that point I already knew what I had to do. No doubt the Confederates would eventually find the truck as well as our fingerprints and hair. And no doubt they would get our footprints from the graveyard…

That's when it hit me. I was stupid enough to claw at my mother's grave.

Of course I hoped that Killaghen would just think it a coincidence… but there was more than a likely chance that he would trace it back to me. Honestly, I felt like crying. Not only had I not listened to my father, but I was putting Lauren in danger.

My brain raced when the thought came through; how had my father known so much? I don't recall him having much military activity in his past, if any. I had to get to their house and look through my father's old tax forms to see if there were any military deductions. That would clear it up.

But I remembered something that turned my blood cold. The father of the family buying the house already had a key to the front door. The too-cute family was a lie; the father must have been a spy for the Confederacy.


	4. Protect the Power

Chapter Four: Protect the Power

"_The state is an organization of violence, a monopoly in what it is pleased to call legitimate violence."_

-John Gardner

The first thing I did was have Steroc drop me off at an abandoned building near my house. I needed to get home fast. I also needed to get to my parents' house before the Confederates went rummaging through it.

Before Steroc and Lee left, I told them to be careful, to trust no one. Lee told me not to worry, he assured me that he had some brilliant idea as to how to get rid of the Confederate hovertruck. Being the skeptical jackass I am, I didn't believe him, but – being the soft-spoken _pushover _I am – I didn't say anything. I watched them drive off until they disappeared around a corner. I couldn't help but be more concerned for their safety than my own.

The second that truck vanished, I started running.

Lauren was my first priority. I didn't know what was happening at all, but I knew that it was not the time to be taking chances. I paced over countless lawns, leapt over numerous fences, and evaded several grendels (grendels being the equivalent of dogs). Finally, my house came into view.

When I arrived at the porch, I could see our car in the garage window. Lauren was home. I was relieved, but also terrified. I prayed that she had not been harmed, but everything else around me seemed normal. No soldiers patrolling the streets, no law enforcement… nothing. I took one last look before I turned the knob and entered the house.

Lauren was in the kitchen, making dinner and watching a news program. She smiled at me as she put her knife down. She wiped her hands and walked towards me.

"Hey, sweetie," she said as she kissed me. "How was your day?" I couldn't respond. I was out of breath and too confused. She frowned and took a step back. She patted my shirt, soaking wet with sweat. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You look like you just ran a marathon."

I stopped being an idiot and shook my head. "No, no I'm not okay. Listen," I started, "I want you to go to Kelly's house."

She almost laughed, but had a touch of puzzlement in her cheeks. "Why?" When she saw that I was dead serious, she opened her eyes wide, looking so concerned. It melted my heart. I couldn't help but turn into an idiot again. "Thad, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Everything. Please, just go to Kelly's, and don't tell anyone that you're there. Do you understand me?" She shook her head. I grabbed her arms and brought her close to my face. "You remember when we used to talk for hours about our lives, about this place and all the mystery in it?"

Lauren managed to crack a smile as tears began to form. "Yes," she said softly. I bit my lip.

"I think I've figured it all out," I said. "And none of it's good. Not any part of it." I slid my hands to her face as I began to smile. I kissed her slowly and then looked into her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She was nearly crying. Who could blame her? I'm sure I scared her to death. I kissed her again and then headed for the door. "Where are you going?"

I stopped as I reached the front door. Could I really tell her? Would it frighten her more than her current state? I didn't know. I turned slowly and looked back at her. "My old house," I responded. "I'll be at Kelly's in an hour. And if I'm not…" I looked outside into the street. "If I'm not there in an hour, just know that I've found something."

I pulled the door towards me and stepped onto the porch. I felt an unbelievably horrifying rush come over me. I went into the garage and started up my car, backing out quickly and driving to the house I grew up in.

I switched on the radio, hoping the all-inspiring news would keep me calm. It didn't.

"… earlier today General Duke of the Confederate Army arrived on Warrant VI, accompanied by the famed Alpha Squadron. Several members of Alpha Squadron are from our very own schools, hand-picked by top-rating officials. Though the general's visit is to be short, he will be making a speech tomorrow night at the capitol."

I turned it off. Wonderful.

Not only had I helped kill a soldier, reinforcements were here. Though it had already been the worst day of my life, it had quickly jumped into a new caliber.

I turned at the corner and headed down my old street. Time seemed to fade back, and before I knew it I was looking at my surroundings in my childhood state of mind. But things didn't look a whole lot different. Maybe it was a bit brighter; maybe people looked a bit happier.

Maybe it was me recalling a feeling of innocence.

I stopped the car in the middle of the road, nearly going past my own old residence. I then pulled off to the side and quickly exited, not bothering to lock my car. I ran to the door, trying to jerk it open, only realizing that it was locked. I shook my head and sighed in a small fury as I fumbled through my keys. George from next door was taking out his trash, and he smiled at me and waved, giving his old "hello, neighbor!" routine. I smiled, quickly waved an arm and dashed inside.

My first instinct was to go upstairs. My parents' room could have been the only place where something secret may be hidden. In the few seconds I ran, I tried to make sense out of what I was doing. Truth be told, I didn't know what the hell I was looking for. The closet was empty, under the bed was barren…

I paced back and forth, biting my nails. I halted in the middle of the room and stared at my hand.

"That's new," I said. "When the hell did I start biting my nails?"

I rolled my eyes and searched through my mother's jewelry drawer. There were a few pearls left, a gold ring… and a picture. It was of my father, the day of his departure. He was all suited up in his marine uniform. That uniform, something I had trusted my life in, as well as my family and friends'… shattered.

I pulled the drawer out in its entirety and dumped it on the floor. Nothing new that I wanted to see. I sat on the bed and buried my face in my hands. This wasn't helping me at all. I steadily looked up and at the cabinet I had just attacked. In the hole that the drawer belonged, I saw a strange white object in the very back. I squinted, hoping I could get a better look at it. It looked like paper.

I got up and stuck my arm into the hole, and when I pulled out, brought back a few sheets of paper that had been smashed against the back of the cabinet. I unfolded them, wiped some of the dust off and began to read. Within seconds my eyes were glued to the documents, and my heart got smacked with a baseball bat, throwing it into my gut and letting it be eaten away by the acid of my stomach.

It was a report of illegal Confederate activity. Moreover, it was written by my father.

On the pages he had detailed statements of arms dealing, drug dealing, a list of executions, tortures… everything. There were even a few pictures printed onto the papers. I couldn't believe it.

The strangest sensation circled in my blood. I was thrilled, horrified, enlightened. I kept reading, knowing now that my father was a hero and not a liar.

Footsteps downstairs.

I froze in place. Someone was down there… _the "father"._ I folded the papers as quietly as I could and put them in my pocket. I headed down the staircase, not knowing what the guy downstairs was doing. Christ, I wasn't even sure it was really who I thought it was.

As I came closer and closer to the bottom, I looked around and could barely see into the kitchen. There was a person in there, moving around as if they were looking for something. Their actions were quick, hurried even. I finally stepped off the stairs and started to move towards the kitchen. It was dark, and I could see their outline. I was certain it was him, his body frame was unmistakable.

I couldn't wait any longer. The feeling of dread that was shaking my hands couldn't control me now. I leaned forward and entered the kitchen, flipping on the light. He was looking through a drawer, and quickly looked up at me as if he was surprised. I looked at him, confused.

"I know you have a key and everything," I said, "but I don't think you're supposed to be going through my stuff." I was playing stupid with him, trying to pretend like I didn't know why he was here. Jared, his name was Jared, took a deep breath and closed the drawer, smiling. I was shaken by this, but decided that showing it would not be the best solution.

"Thad, let me explain something to you," he said as he leaned forward on the counter. "It seems to me that you are not a risk-taker. You seem pretty satisfied in the life you have. Am I right in saying this?" I quickly looked left and right, then back to Jared. I nodded. "I thought so. But if that's true, why in the world kill a poor marine? He was only doing his job." Jared then grew a cruel grin on his face, and I acted as if I were confused.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." I backed up slowly. He shook his head, laughing and looking down at the counter.

"I thought you'd say that," he then looked back up at me. "We both know why I'm here. We both know why _you're _here. Now, there are only two questions remaining. The first has already been asked, and you refused to give an answer." He removed his hands from the counter, causing me to flinch. "The second is another tough one. One that I think you'll have difficulty explaining to the police."

My act dropped. He knew that I was scared now. Jared turned around and grabbed a packet of papers off the top of the refrigerator. He patted them and waved them in the air.

"Now," he began, "these papers say that I own the house. And this gun," which he retracted from his left pocket, "belongs to you, according to some other papers." I shook my head in a mad rage.

"No… I don't even own a gun! I've never bought one! There aren't any papers saying that! And there aren't any papers saying this house is yours! We haven't come that far yet!" I backed up against the wall, sweat pouring down my face.

"That's a problem for you, isn't it?" he asked me. "Because if you were to go look in the glove compartment of your _unlocked _car, you'd find a few papers saying this gun is yours." My jaw was trembling. He turned the gun around and aimed it at his shoulder. "And it seems to me that you're about to shoot me with it."

I rushed forward, trying to stop him from setting me up further than he already had. But I was too late; the bastard fired and struck himself. My feet screeched to a halt as he cowered in pain. Before I knew what had happened, he tossed the gun to me, and like an idiot I caught it.

"I can't believe you, Thad. You broke into my house and tried to kill me. What kind of son of a bitch are you?" he said as he winced and grinned at the same time.

I turned around, heading for the door as fast as I could. To my horror, the door was being kicked open, and several police officers as well as Confederate marines headed through. I dropped the gun and tried to stop my feet and turn them in the other direction, but I fell flat on my back.

"Freeze!" an officer yelled. "Don't move or I _will _kill you!"

I did as I was told, but I was too confused, too baffled… too stupid to understand that this was actually happening to me. My world was collapsing piece by piece. The next thing I knew, I was being handcuffed and beaten. An officer stood over me, shaking his head.

"Thad Ressetar, you are under arrest for the murder of Private John Halspen, attempted murder of Jared Practen, evading arrest, breaking and entering, and possession of illegal drugs." The cops propped me up, and I looked at the officer who was talking to me face to face.

"Drug possession?" I said, still trying to worm my way out of a position I had been forced into.

"Yes. Thirteen pounds of teronin was found in the trunk of your car."

Jared walked in, clutching his shoulder. "Hey, don't forget about all those bodies in the graveyard." The officer nodded.

"Right. You're also charged with the murder of all those scumbags we found in the graveyard, whoever the hell they are." He laughed at this, and so did Jared. "And so are your buddies. Now get this asshole out of here."

I closed my eyes and let my feet drag on the ground. They brought me outside, tons of cops and marines running around, as well as spectators and news people. My face shook like an earthquake, and for the first time in years, a tear pushed through my eye and onto my cheek.


End file.
